


Dex

by RicochetRomance



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Chubby Anakin, Chubby Kink, Crack, Humor, M/M, Rated to be Safe, Swearing, Weight Gain, obikin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 14:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14979032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RicochetRomance/pseuds/RicochetRomance
Summary: Mace is vindictive, Obi-Wan can't cook, and Anakin makes excellent decisions. Not exactly standard operating procedure.Please note that this is weight gain fanfiction - reader discretion is advised.





	Dex

**Author's Note:**

> Still watching the Clone Wars, still inspired to write trash.
> 
> Loosely set in the same AU as "Fifty".

There was a disgusting smell creeping steadily down the Temple hallways. Burnt Womprat, with a side of boiled cabbage. 

Master Kenobi was cooking again.

No-one had the balls to tell him the truth. That his meals tasted even worse than they smelled, that literally everyone else who ate them ended up in the Halls of Healing, that they had been declared a war crime on seven planets in three separate systems. No-one had the balls to tell the Perfect Jedi that he wasn't actually perfect.

Among his acquaintances, standard operating procedure was to politely decline. Among his friends, it was to feign other obligations. 

Anakin had neither of these options - the two men shared an apartment. When the Chosen One came home to a plate of his former master's god-awful cooking, he had no choice but to eat it.

In the past, it hadn't been much of a problem. All Anakin had needed to do was cut a few minutes off the end of his (mandatory) afternoon meditation, run through the crowded Temple halls like a literal obstacle course, and (hopefully) make it home before six-fifteen. 

That way, dinner would already be on the stove (or in the oven) by the time Obi-Wan finally escaped from the Council, and the Chosen One's digestive system would be safe for another day. 

Recently, though, the younger man had been relegated to teaching duty - now, he had no hope in Hell of getting home early. Anakin swore that Mace had assigned him the evening classes on purpose. 

It was probably revenge for one of the Chosen One's innumerable PR incidents. Specifically the incident six months ago, when he'd borrowed Mace's personal speeder without bothering to ask permission, and returned it with a dented front fender, a cracked windscreen, two missing hubcaps, fourteen bullet holes in the passenger side door, and six unpaid parking violations. In his defence, he'd been drunk at the time. 

At the far end of the hallway, Anakin stopped dead in his tracks, trying his hardest not to gag. Somehow, the smell was even worse than usual. 

There was no way in Hell he was eating whatever monstrosity Obi-Wan had cooked up tonight. It was quite literally a matter of self-preservation. 

Turning on his heel, Anakin stalked back down the hallway, crossed a short footbridge, turned left, descended two flights of stairs, turned right, crossed the atrium and left the Temple. 

He was going to go get a decent fucking meal.

-

Getting a decent fucking meal meant going down to Dex's. The food was as tasty as it was affordable, and on the Order's notoriously stingy expense allotment, that's all that really mattered. 

This would be the third time this week - and it was only Wednesday. 

Sliding awkwardly into an unoccupied corner booth, Anakin grumbled a few choice profanities in Huttese. Since when had the edge of the table dug into his stomach?

He was getting fat, even he couldn't deny that. Eating oversized portions of greasy diner food six days a week for an entire semester would do that to even the most disciplined of Jedi - and Anakin sure as Hell wasn't the most disciplined of Jedi. 

Fuck, it had been weeks since he'd last sparred, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually bothered to go through his katas. 

An interrogative beep interrupted his brooding - one of Dex's serving drones was already here to take his order. "The usual - but double the milkshakes." 

In the long term, overindulging was only going to make his situation worse, but as far as Anakin was concerned, he definitely deserved a little extra today - he'd marked an entire batch of test papers, and not a single one of those brats had gotten above a 70%. If stupidity was indicative of Force sensitivity, he had a class of future Jedi Masters on his hands.

He was getting fat, and it was all Obi-Wan's fault. He'd already had to swap his preferred leggings for standard-issue breeches months ago - the fitted leather had flatly refused to accommodate his steadily thickening thighs. In recent weeks, he'd even had to resort to lying on his back and abusing the Force just to get his damn belt fastened. 

Speaking of belts, might as well take the fucking uncomfortable thing off. 

The drone returned just a few minutes later, while Anakin was still massaging out the worst of the numbness, balancing three heaping plates and a tray of drinks. The usual, double the milkshakes. 

His stomach growled with anticipation as he took the first bite - a sloppy forkful of elbow macaroni and melted Bantha cheese. 

He'd been looking forward to this all day. 

-

The mac and cheese special, two Nerf steak sandwiches, a large order of fried dough, and four chocolate chip milkshakes. 

An obscene amount of obscenely fattening food - the perfect challenge for his voracious appetite.

The Chosen One groaned happily. He was finally full, and it felt as amazing as always. Temple meals weren't even half this good, and Obi-Wan's cooking easily got it's ass kicked into next week.

Transferring a handful of credits to pay his bill, his mechanical fingertips moved over the keypad by memory alone, while his natural hand rested on the stuffed curve of his stomach. 

It was late enough by now that his former master would have already gone to sleep, and any leftovers of that disgusting excuse for dinner would be exactly where they belonged - in the garbage.

Sliding out of the booth took considerably more effort than sliding in, and Anakin wondered - not for the first time - why he hadn't just taken one of the tables up front.

Because no-one from the Temple can ever find out that you come here, the disapproving voice in the back of his mind supplied. Weirdly enough, it sounded a bit like Palpatine.

Anakin rolled his eyes. The Chancellor's voice could fuck off, and so could the rest of the Jedi Order. Just one meal here, and they'd love it as much as he did.

As the young Knight swaggered out of the diner, he didn't notice that he was being observed - by Dex himself.

The proprietor grinned - that Jedi was one of his best customers, and it definitely showed. Every last one of those extra pounds - from his hugely stuffed belly to his generous love handles, from his impossibly wide hips to the barely-noticeable beginnings of his second chin - could be chalked up to Dex's cooking. 

Best damn food on Coruscant, and there went living proof. 

-

Sneaking back into the Temple was easy - so easy that it probably didn't even qualify as sneaking. 

There was a predictable ten minute gap in the rotation of the night patrol, and he'd disconnected the alarm in the emergency stairwell months ago. It was youngling's play, even stuffed full and half-asleep. 

Anakin used the Force to crack open the locked door of his shared apartment - using the keypad would have been easier, but noisier. A smug grin curving his plump cheeks, he stepped inside. This was TOO easy. 

As the door slid shut, the living room light snapped on, revealing an incredibly tired and incredibly irritated-looking Obi-Wan.

"Kriff." 

Anakin froze, giving the older man an opportunity to get a decent look at his former padawan for the first time in what felt like weeks. His gaze was promptly and unsurprisingly drawn to the Chosen One's belly - an achingly stuffed belly that was straining at the fabric of robes that were already far too tight.

Obi-Wan set his jaw. No matter how impossibly tempting the sight, he was still a Jedi Master, and he still had a lecture to give.

"Anakin." He began firmly, gesturing to his former padawan's midsection. "Your physical condition has become an unacceptable distraction."

He didn't realize just how badly he'd phrased himself - that is, until the younger man's expression abruptly shifted from guilty grimace to knowing smirk. 

"Admit it," the so-called Chosen One challenged. "You think this is hot." 

"'This' is an embarrassment to the Jedi Order." Obi-Wan retorted, trying not to sound as flustered as he felt. "I expect you to resume your training immediately." 

Anakin shifted his stance, leaning back slightly to show off the heavy curve of his belly in profile. His former master couldn't help but stare, a blush beginning to creep onto his cheeks. 

"What, and stop distracting you?" The younger man teased. 

Obi-Wan's blush reddened as he forced himself to look away from such a shameless display. He coughed awkwardly, if only to fill the silence.

"I - I need to meditate." He replied at last, a stammer in his voice. "We'll discuss this in the morning." 

Anakin's smirk broadened, and Master Kenobi resisted the urge to slap a hand over his still-reddening face. This time, he realized exactly how badly he'd phrased himself. Turning on his heel, the older man hurried out of the living room, intent on putting a closed, soundproof door between himself and his former padawan.

Obi-Wan refused to admit that this was anything more than a tactical retreat. Anakin knew better - his former master clearly had one Hell of a kink, and was clearly much too embarrassed to admit it.

Unfastening his robes with a groan of relief, the younger man headed down the hall towards his own room, discarding layers of clothing as he went.

This was going to be fun. 

-

It was a truly rare occurrence for Anakin to wake up any earlier than he absolutely had to - and since he'd started teaching evening classes, he was rarely awake before noon. Today however, it was barely even dawn when Obi-Wan was awoken by unusual noises from the kitchen. 

What the actual fuck?

Padding out of his bedroom on bare feet, the older man couldn't help but yawn. Even for the most disciplined of Jedi, it was ridiculously early - and Anakin sure as Hell wasn't the most disciplined of Jedi.

The whole place smelled like blueberry pancakes, and his former padawan was standing next to the stove, eating through a heaping stack of them so voraciously that his life may very well have depended on it. 

There were three more already on the pan, and a quarter of a bowl of unused batter still on the counter. Obi-Wan exhaled with exasperation - what part of his previous night's lecture hadn't been clear? 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the older man realized that he had overlooked one crucial detail of this otherwise irritating scene. 

Anakin was shirtless.

His soft belly was on full display, rounding down generously over the waistband of his worn-out stretched-thin sleep pants. It was lightly hairy, and only a few short stretch marks marred the tan flesh - not nearly as many as one would expect from such a rapid increase in weight. Had the strength of the Chosen One's connection to the Force accelerated his healing? 

By Obi-Wan's estimation, Anakin had gained at least forty pounds in just five months of teaching. Forty kriffing gorgeous pounds.

It was about then that the older man abruptly realized he was staring. His face reddened, that same flustered blush from the night before. 

There was syrup on the younger man's lower lip, and he was impossibly tempted to kiss those lips clean, to deepen the kiss and taste the pancakes on his former padawan's tongue, to bury his hands in the soft rolls of flesh at Anakin's sides, to lose himself in exploring every inch of that decadent body. 

Shaking himself from his inappropriate fantasies, Obi-Wan realized that the younger man was smirking at him. Then, he realized why.

In his groggy state, he'd inadvertently projected those fantasies through the Force, through the training bond that still connected the two men. It was a bond that should have been severed on the day that Anakin was knighted, and this was exactly why. 

"Now you HAVE to admit it," the younger man's tone was insufferably smug. "You think this is hot." 

For once, Obi-Wan was at a complete loss for sarcastic retorts - but why bother with words at a time like this? In two swift strides he crossed the tile floor between them, and abruptly crushed their lips together in a full, passionate kiss. 

The older man could in fact taste the pancakes in his former padawan's mouth, and couldn't help but wonder whether blueberries had always tasted that delicious. 

As the two men finally broke the kiss, the implications of what they'd just done sunk in, and Obi-Wan's flushed cheeks paled with horror. Such a blatant and flagrant violation of the Jedi Code, and not only had he wanted it, he'd actually initiated it. He'd just thrown away decades of discipline in a moment of sheer perverted lust.

Honestly? He couldn't bring himself to regret it. 

"You're thinking too hard," Anakin observed wryly, drawing Obi-Wan in for another searing kiss. A kiss that ended with his former master pinned between the kitchen counter and the younger man's soft, heavy body. 

What had he been thinking about? The older man couldn't remember. All that really mattered right now was the warm weight practically smothering him. 

In the fleeting moments before his resolve completely shattered, Obi-Wan managed to voice one last coherent thought. "I still expect you to resume your training." 

The Chosen One just rolled his eyes, smirking as he resumed their kiss. It wouldn't make a difference, he’d make completely sure of that. 

After all, Obi-Wan hadn't said anything about going to Dex's.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd apologize, but I'm honestly not sorry. 
> 
> I'm really starting to enjoy writing this kink, and I'd appreciate your feedback.


End file.
